


Keep It Professional

by joeyjwitter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, also excuse my terrible summary, warning: picturing bellamy wearing a suit will do things to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeyjwitter/pseuds/joeyjwitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bellamy let’s Clarke fill in as his assistant, he presumes that it won’t end well. What he doesn’t expect though is, lingering gazes, flirty coworkers, and how good Clarke Griffin looks in a skirt. With glares and missing coffee, can the two really keep it professional?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep It Professional

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has ever watched Dawson’s Creek you know I got this from an episode where Pacey let’s Joey fill in as his assistant and it’s one of my favorite episodes because Pacey and Joey are literally OTP. (They remind me a lot of Bellarke because slow burn, bickering, loathe to love kind of relationship).
> 
> I also know absolutely nothing about stocks so if you read this and you’re more enlightened then I am, I am so sorry, I’m mostly just focusing on Bellamy/Clarke.

Clarke is amazed when the metal doors of the elevator slide open to reveal the floor filled with the sound of shrill phone rings, loud voices, and name calling. When she steps out, a few pair of eyes land on her and she can feel her face burning up at the scrutiny. She’s dressed in an old sweatshirt and a pair of denim jeans with paint scattered everywhere, including parts of her skin which causes her to stand out incredibly with everyone else dressed in suits. She bites the inside of her cheek as she holds the paper bag closer to her chest. The large windows that were their walls let the California sun stream in and bathe every single person around in light. It was like stepping into a new world, she was used to the darkness of her apartment and art studio.

She jumps when a hand touches her upper back and she turns to see Bellamy standing there with his eyebrows raised. He has a navy suit on, a red tie, and his curly hair is slightly disheveled as if he ran his hands through it a few times during the short day. She’s still not used to seeing him dressed so formally.

“What are you doing here, Clarke?” he asks.

“Um – Octavia had to pick up Jasper so she asked me to drop this off,” she holds up the bag filled with Chipotle for him to view.

“Thank you,” he says with a nod that she returns awkwardly once he takes it from her.

“No problem.” She replies as her hand tugs at the elastic that’s holding her hair up, letting the loose curls cascade down her back, “I should probably get going.”

Bellamy takes notice of the way the guy’s around gape at her and refrains from rolling his eyes. He knows being holed up for most of the day in a workplace with lack of females isn’t favorable but to absentmindedly stare at any girl was undoubtedly creepy.

“Yeah, you’re distracting the boys,” he smirks causing her to sneak a subtle look around.

“Blake!”

The duo turns to see an older looking man, gelled back hair, and a stiff posture coming towards them. There are creases in his forehead and he looks ready to kill. Clarke is almost afraid for Bellamy.

“Yes, sir?”

“What happened to Ashley?” he demands.

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrow, “You fired her three days ago,” he says slowly as if he was a bomb about to go off, “You said she wasn’t efficient enough.”

The man pauses, obviously trying to think back to that time, “Ah, I remember. The one who yelled about finances and her kid.” He rolls his eyes and Clarke shifts uncomfortably behind Bellamy wondering if she should just slip away quietly.

“That would be the one.”

He looks past him, “And this is her replacement?”

Bellamy immediately shakes his head, “Oh no, this is just my friend.”

The bad tempered male looks between the two of them, “You any good at being an assistant?”

Clarke is momentarily dazed at the random question before she answers, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Kane she’s –,” Bellamy tries to cut in but he ignores him.

“It doesn’t take much knowledge,” Kane continues, keeping his eyes on the blonde, “And your friend here needs a secretary. If not I’ll find one myself.”

He stalks off after that, his voice chastising someone named Tom for causing such a mess at the copy machine.

“Sorry about that,” Bellamy says with a shake of his head, “Thanks for the lunch.”

“Hold on a minute,” she calls after him when he starts to walk away, “How much would that pay?”

Bellamy is slightly surprised at the fact that she’s actually _considering_ this, “Clarke –,”

“How much?”

Bellamy shrugs, “Like six hundred a week?”

Clarke’s eyes widen, “Six hundred?!”

Her loud voice only causes more people to look up at her and he shushes her immediately, “Don’t you already have a job?”

“They cut my hours since everyone’s on spring break,” she tells him. It was the truth. Clarke worked at an art studio down the block from her campus, she was there right before she went off to lunch with Octavia. She worked for a good three hours which is how she managed to get so dirty before they told her about only needing her late nights on Tuesday’s and Friday’s for the next two weeks.

He stays silent.

“Come on, it would be perfect,” she says, her blue eyes bright with excitement, “I need the money and you need a secretary.”

He raises his finger to stop her, “I don’t _need_ anything.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Your boss _just_ said that he’s going to hire someone.”

“Clarke, do you really think this is a good idea?” He questions to which her eyebrows draw in, “The whole boss and assistant relationship can’t be good for a friendship.”

She gives him a teasing smile as she steps closer, her fingers reaching out to fix his tie, he watches her movements, the way her head tilts as she readjusts it correctly before her eyes meet his when she straightens, “It’s not like we have much of a friendship anyways, right?”

She gently pats his chest and he rolls his eyes, “Fine.”

Clarke breaks out into a grin, all teeth, and he can’t help but smile himself, “What time should I come in tomorrow?”

“Eight,” he answers and leads her to the crystal desk right outside his office that had recently belonged to Ashley, “This is where you’ll answer calls and write down any important messages. Oh and don’t transfer personal calls if I’m busy unless it’s an emergency.”

Clarke squints over her shoulder looking slightly impressed, “You got it, boss.”

Bellamy stuffs his hands into his pockets, “By the way, I like my coffee first thing in the morning, black, and on my desk.”

He can see that she wants to retort with a sarcastic comment, something like ‘and you have two working hands’ or ‘and I’m sure you’re capable of making it yourself’ but she just swallows and nods once before returning her attention back to her own desk, “No problem.”

Bellamy smirks inwardly as he claps a hand over her shoulder, “You’re still sure about this?”

She shoots him a look, “I can handle it.” _Especially for six hundred a week_ , she thinks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says as he heads back to his office, “And please lose the paint stained clothes.”

-

“Ms. Griffin,” Bellamy acknowledges as she scampers her way into his office with a sheepish smile, “You’re late.”

She was also dressed different, more professional. In her dark pencil skirt that reached a few inches above her knee, a blue blouse that had the first two buttons undone (not that he counted), and a pair of black pumps.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she took a seat in the chair in front of his desk, “It won’t happen again, Bell.”

He licks his lips before leaning forward, palms out stretched on the worksheets he was rearranging, “In here I’m Mr. Blake,” he tells her and he notices the way the corner of her lips turn upwards in amusement, “Is that a problem?”

She shakes her head, “No, of course not, _Mr_. Blake.”

His eyebrows raise and he stands up to circle around the desk, “Good,” he hands over the paperwork, “Can you send this down to Joe in copying?”

Clarke nods with a hint of a smile still on her lips, “Right away.”

She turns sharply on her heel and he wonders if he’s becoming like the rest of the guy’s in this place or if Clarke’s hips always swayed that way when she walks.

 -

Bellamy eyes droop (there was no coffee on his desk _again_ the next morning) as Kane drones on about their current “mission impossible” of getting as many people as they can to purchase the DNL stock. He already knows he can get all of his clients persuaded in a matter of minutes. They didn’t call him the best for nothing. His gaze passes through the glass walls, and his eyes land on Clarke who’s standing by the coffee pot in the far corner with Finn. His eyes narrow at the sight, Finn leaning in close as she laughs at something he says.

He never liked the guy. Mostly because he was his biggest competition. He was good – really good and his numbers were almost as close to Bellamy’s despite the fact that he was new to being a stockbroker and young. Bellamy just brushed it off to ‘beginner’s luck’ whenever he heard someone mumbling about it.

“Blake, are you listening?” Kane’s rough voice brought him back to the meeting.

He nods his head, listing off a few strategies he had in mind and based on Kane’s grin, he was impressed. When he glances back at the pair, he see’s Finn typing something into his phone with Clarke still at his side – probably getting her number. (He might be scowling but it’s only because he really doesn’t trust this guy.)

When the conference is over, he places the folders under his arm and walks out just in time for Finn to stroll by him. Bellamy reaches out his arm to stop his movement causing the boy to stare at him with a frown and an eyebrow raise.

“I know you’re basically fresh out of high school,” Bellamy says, “But here in the real world we show up to meetings and not flirt with the pretty girls.”

Finn laughs which only causes his jaw to clench, “I appreciate the concern, Blake but I think I can handle both.”

Bellamy ignores the urge to punch him in the throat (he had those desires almost daily) as he walks towards his office again. Clarke is writing something on a notepad, head down, so she doesn’t notice that he’s coming towards her. He knocks on the edge of her desk causing her to jump in surprise.

“What’s the message?” he asks, nodding towards the notepad.

Clarke’s cheeks flush as she covers the paper, “Nothing, no message.”

His eyebrow quirks, “Okay then,” he shrugs but instead of taking another step, he grabs the notepad from under her causing her to gasp in surprise. He scans the page, there’s a sketch, small but detailed, and it’s... “Finn?”

Her cheeks are bright red as she stands and holds out her palm, “Can I have it back please?”

“Can I have a professional secretary?” he retorts as he rips out the page causing her eyes to widen and lips to part in disbelief. “Not someone who daydreams and draws?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

He meets her stare and he’s pretty sure all the people around them are watching but he’s not one to back down. There’s a fire behind her cobalt eyes and her chest is rising and falling with every shallow breath she takes in what he thinks is her way of staying calm.

“Go back to work.” He instructs before closing the doors to his office as if not seeing her would help clear his mind.

 -

The fourth day he walks in, Clarke is already seated at her desk, a blazer over her top, her hair tied up in a high ponytail (he takes a moment to admire how the style suits her) and wearing the same skirt and heels. She looks pissed, after their little tirade yesterday, she had left right after seven (she was entitled to go of course) but he was still surprised to see her workspace empty when he was heading out himself.

“Mr. Blake,” she greets in a cold stone voice and he sighs.

He knew nothing good could come out of this.

“Clarke –,”

“It’s Ms. Griffin,” she corrects.

He’s slowly losing his patience with her, “Ms. Griffin, I rather not have this hostility between us.”

Her gaze moves to the ground before they’re back on him again. She purses her lips and nods her head, “You’re right, it’s _unprofessional_ ,” she states, “I’m sorry.”

The corner of his lips turn up, “Me too.”

When he notices that once again there is no coffee on his desk, he decides to let it go.

 -

 The week finally ends and Clarke is rewarded with her paycheck that he knows she was bragging about because as soon as he steps back into his apartment, Octavia is yelling on the phone over how she wished she was the one who delivered his lunch in the first place. As he slips off his jacket and tie, he lets himself wonder if having his sister as his assistant would have been a better idea. He wouldn’t have felt nearly as awkward telling her what to do but then he thinks of how Clarke’s legs look in her skirt or how he kind of enjoys the way “Mr. Blake” sounds coming from her lips and he knows he got lucky. No matter how terrible of a secretary she is.

 -

 “Where’s my coffee?”

Bellamy is livid. He lost three of his clients today due to that douche bag that was Finn Collins. He deliberately went behind his back and called them to change their stocks to the one’s he was marketing. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He wasn’t about to go tell Kane – he wasn’t a snitch. He was close to becoming a murderer though.

“You had it already,” Clarke says as she comes into his office as soon as he slumps into his seat. His eyes are dark, his jaw is set, and his knuckles are white from how he gripped his pen, “What’s up?”

Bellamy looks at her with such rage that it makes her almost recoil, “Your stupid boyfriend is being a little prick.”

Clarke glances over her shoulder before slowly backing away. Bellamy figures she’s going to leave him, give him time to breathe and cool down but she just closes his doors and takes a seat.

“First, he’s not my boyfriend,” her nose crinkles, “He let it slip about a girlfriend – he’s not too bright, that one.”

She feels relief when he cracks a smile before she continues, “Second, do you want to tell me about it?”

And he does. He tells her how when Finn first arrived he acted like he ran the place and admitted that maybe he was so easily irritated by him because Bellamy was the same way (maybe still is) and he hated that he worked here for three years now and “this douchebag” was close to taking his place at the top. By the time his rant comes to an end, an hour has passed and he starts to wonder if he had received any important calls with his assistant busy listening to him.

“I think you need a glass of wine instead of coffee.”

Bellamy chuckles and he seems more relaxed now that he was able to get it all off his chest, “Probably,” he says, “Thanks for listening Cl – Ms. Griffin.”

Clarke smiles as she stands, “Anytime, Mr. Blake,” she pauses briefly, hooking her bottom lip between her teeth before leaning over the desk and pressing a kiss to his temple, “I know that wasn’t professional but it was needed.”

As he watches her leave he mutters, “Screw professional.”

 -

“Can you believe that tomorrow is my last day?” Clarke shakes her head as she digs into the chow main with her chopsticks, she has her legs propped up on his desk, ankles locked, even after Bellamy reprimands her for it, “I think I have what it takes to be a full time secretary.”

Bellamy glances up at her, mouth full of take-out, “If that’s what you want to tell yourself,” He dodges the fortune cookie she throws at him with a wink.

“Shut up.” She laughs.

“You’re too good for a job like this anyways.”

She meets his gaze and a soft smile appears on her lips. The door swings open then causing Clarke to let her legs fall back down to the ground as Kane makes his presence known.

“We have a reporter coming in at five,” he tells him, “She specifically asked for you.”

Clarke looks from Kane to Bellamy who looks surprised by his words, “Me? Why?”

Kane only shrugs, “I have no idea but she’s from the Metro paper,” his eyes bore holes into Bellamy’s, “So don’t screw it up.”

Bellamy gives him a nod and to anyone else he doesn’t look nervous but Clarke can tell differently. When the doors close behind him, she gathers the containers scattered around the desk to throw out.

“No pressure.” She jokes and he lets out a long breath as she escapes the room.

An hour and a half later, Bellamy is sitting back in his chair, leg visibly shaking as Clarke makes her way into his office again, she hands him a pile of paperwork fresh from the copier which he takes without breaking his staring contest with the clock on his wall.

“Trying to get it to blow up?”

His hands press together as he leans his chin on his thumbs, “Funny.”

“Do you want coffee or something?”

He looks over at her for the first time, sighing quietly, “Yeah, that would be great.”

She sees the gratitude in his eyes and she gives him a smile but as soon as she pivots away, she bumps into something – well _someone_.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Clarke says as she regains her footing. _Damn heels_.

She looks up to see a girl, a few years older than her, brunette, and Kane standing behind her. She doesn’t respond to Clarke’s apology only goes around her with a grin.

“Mr. Blake,” she greets.

Bellamy quickly pushes himself out of his chair and reaches his hand out for her to shake, “Call me Bellamy.”

The woman smiles and Clarke narrows her eyes, _so she can call him Bellamy?_ “I’m Roma.”

“Coffee, Roma?” he asks, “My assistant was just about to grab some.”

She quirks a brow, annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t use her name or Ms. Griffin. Roma nods but doesn’t peel her eyes away from him, “I’d love some. Cream and milk.”

_Please_ , Clarke mouths silently but Bellamy catches it and he shoots her a look before taking his seat again while Kane and Roma grab the ones around his desk.

Clarke takes her time with filling up the coffee pot, she places it onto the tray with the milk, cream, and packets of sugar. She pulls her hair to the side before she picks it up and carries it into Bellamy’s office. He’s smiling at Roma, bright and warm, it’s odd to her since she’s not used to seeing him give strangers that kind of look.

“I have to say, I’m quite impressed at how well you’ve done,” Roma says as she jots something down into her small notebook, “I mean you’ve managed to become one of the most successful stockbrokers in California.”

Bellamy shrugs modestly, “I work hard.”

“I’m sure you do,” she replies, her voice laced with something more. Something alluring. Clarke hides her grimace wondering if she realizes she and Kane were also in the room.

“Cream and milk, right?” Clarke’s tone is sugary sweet as she holds up a cup.

Roma barley glances at her, “Yeah, not too much with the cream.”

Clarke swallows her distaste as she pours the coffee into the mug and when she gets to the milk, she accidently trips over the leg of her chair and the liquid splashes against her lap. Roma jumps up along with Bellamy and from the corner of her eye she can see Kane trying to hide his amusement.

“I am so sorry!” Clarke exclaims as she places the cup down onto his desk. She grabs a few napkins to hand her, catching Bellamy’s gaze in the process. He looks stunned as if she did it on purpose (she didn’t, of course she didn’t.) She shrugs innocently as Kane steps forward, putting a hand to Roma’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should finish this in my office,” he suggests and then glances over at Bellamy who nods.

Clarke busies herself with cleaning up and she knows that even with her back to him, Bellamy’s staring at her. When she turns, his arms are crossed and his eyebrows are raised.

“I said I was sorry,” she says.

He shakes his head as circles around his desk, pointing a finger at her, “Don’t leave until I’m back.”

She presses her lips together as he saunters out of his office, fixing his collar, and oozing with confidence she envies.

 -

It forty three minutes later when Bellamy returns, he opens the doors and leans against the hedge, Clarke can see the flash of amusement in his eyes but it’s gone just as quick. Her legs are once again propped up onto his desk but this time she’s settled in his chair. Her head tilts to the side after he does the same.

“What are you doing in my seat?” he questions as he comes closer.

Clarke leans back into the leather, her eyes closing briefly, “It’s comfortable.”

“Cute,” he comments, “Almost as cute as you pouring milk all over Roma.”

Clarke glares at him, “It was an accident.”

“Yeah right,” he rolls his eyes, “Even you’re not that clumsy.”

She rises to her feet, “Why would I purposely do that?”

Bellamy throws his hands in the air at her query, “How the hell should I know?”

Clarke keeps quiet as he grabs a notepad from his desk drawer and holds it out for her. She looks at it with confusion before she slowly takes it from his awaiting hands.

“And why exactly are you giving me this?”

“I think I owe Roma a _written_ apology for my secretary’s lack of skill,” he says and her teeth grits together once he points towards the chair on the other side of his desk for her to sit in. She obeys with a huff and crosses her legs to lean it against her knee, “Let’s start with…it was a pleasure meeting you today, you were absolutely lovely –,”

Clarke scoffs and Bellamy peers at her from his spot at the edge of his desk, “Is there something you’d like to say, Ms. Griffin?”

“Yeah, there is,” she puts the pencil down on her lap to look up at him, “Could you be more of a suck up?”

His tongue leisurely wets his lips, somewhat surprised at her words, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she replies as she puts the notepad in the seat next to her and stands. She flips her curls over her shoulder mockingly, “Oh, Bellamy, you’re so powerful and rich, I can’t wait to write about you in my next report especially if you give me something in return.”

Clarke notices the way his eyes darken, “What are you insinuating?”

She lets out a breathy laugh which isn’t at all filled with enjoyment, “That you want to fuck her!”

Now he’s incredulous with surprise and his eyes dart to the open doors. He lifts himself from his position and takes a step forward, “That’s enough.”

Clarke continues to stand her ground, “It’s true though, right? You’ll get the prestige report you wanted so you can stay on top.”

“I am your boss,” he reminds her, coming even closer so that their torso’s brush, his voice is much lower then before, “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

“I’ll speak to you however I please, _Mr_. Blake.”

He doesn’t miss the way her eyes flicker to his lips and all self-control is out the window. He crushes his lips to hers, his fingers intertwining in her golden locks and her arms circling his neck. It’s heated and sloppy, hands roaming everywhere. Bellamy lets out a muffled groan when she pushes herself flush against him. He hoists her up and after a second her back comes in contact with the plush couch pushed off to the side. He hovers above her, her hands moving under his jacket and he helps her shrug it off.

Bellamy’s hands cup her face as he brings their lips together once more. Her fingers go to undo his tie before an uncomfortable cough loud enough causes them to release each other’s mouth but Bellamy doesn’t remove his body off her. Clarke digs her teeth into her lip guiltily as they turn their heads to see Kane standing there.

“At least keep the door closed next time, Blake,” he tells him, “I just wanted to let you know the boys and I are going out to Grounder’s bar after but you seem pretty occupied.”

Clarke hides her smile in his shirt as Bellamy answers, “Sorry, sir.”

Kane shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry, I mean I waited a month with my assistant but that’s just me.” He mumbles and makes sure to firmly shut the doors behind him.

“Don’t ever become an assistant,” he pleads as he combs back a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She laughs, “Don’t ever mix business with pleasure again after this.”

Bellamy grins with a hum of agreement as he kisses her again.

Fuck professionalism.

**Author's Note:**

> After last night's episode (or ALL the episodes) I thought we all could use some light-hearted AU bellarke.


End file.
